


The Mile High Mission

by itisunreal



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Philinda Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 20:55:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7907398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisunreal/pseuds/itisunreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson likes undercover work, he really does. He just likes it better when he knows the plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mile High Mission

He stands there, bewildered, as she stalks off. Face stinging, he hadn’t seen their assignment going this way. Usually their undercover jobs were… nicer. Less hitting, more flirting. It’s his favorite part about the whole charade, the ability to be with her without jeopardizing what they already have. To, every once in a while, feel like he has a life outside of work.

_"Get it together, DC. We need more time, haven’t found it yet.”_

_"Better hurry it up, bout time to make a drop off. These guys are not gonna nap much longer, and I’d really like to not have to hit them again.”_

_"Your wish is my command, Trip.”_

_"I can hear the sarcasm, and it is not appreciated."_

_"Copy that,”_ he hears May say. She’s disappeared from view, but he’s sure he can suss out her hiding spot easily enough. Sounds of distress are wandering in from the direction of the bathroom. It has to be her, he’s observed no other couple squabbling. At least, not enough that one of them is crying.

The lament wraps around him, growing louder, and he shivers. If she never makes that sound again, it will be too soon. The eyes of the cabin are on him, and he shifts restlessly on his feet. What has he gotten himself into to?

_"I don’t know, man, I think she missed her calling.”_

He’d always thought so. Thought she’d protested too much, too hard, to not like it just a little bit. She just doesn’t want anyone else to know he thinks, wants to maintain face. And he’ll keep that little insight to himself, he will. Maybe. Then again, maybe there’s a way he could use it as leverage, not that it would matter in the short or long run, no one would believe him.

Coulson ducks out of his row, heading back toward the lavatory. As distractions go, this isn’t a bad one, they seem to have most of the plane’s attention, no one in particular stands out. But his cheek is still smarting, and he yanks one side of his glasses to right them. It’s all well and good, he doesn’t really mind if he has to take a few hits here and there, but next time he’ll pick out their cover. It doesn’t end favorably for him when he isn’t involved. The ops are suffocatingly over planned or maddeningly under planned, either way she and Simmons have far too much fun making him look like an ass.

_"Right? It is just ridiculous at this point. Says she doesn’t like undercover. I don’t buy it.”_

_"I can hear you.”_

Biting back a smile, he reaches the door. This is it. Shaking his shoulder out, readying himself, he knocks.

_"And I’ll kill you.”_

He’s astonished for a second, and it’s hard to hold the grin from his face. The way she says it is almost sing-songy, and it is amazing. He half wishes he could record it, and set it as his ringtone. 

She’s more chipper than he’s seen her in a while, and it’s wonderful. It’s a lightening glimpse of the person he used to know, the bit of personality he misses sometimes. The thought is afforded a small frown, but nothing more than that.

Daisy’s snort travels through the comms loud and clear, and he has to stop himself of rubbing at his ear. 

Time trickles by, and for a minute he’s nervous she’s left him to make a scene by himself, but the panel door flies open the next moment, and she’s flinging herself at him. He almost doesn’t catch her, shocked as he is, but his arms wrap around her as she collides with his chest. This is taking another turn he can’t see the end of, and if it’s anything like that last one he’s positive he’s not going to like it.

Her hands are warm on his face, eyes wet, shining even, and he’s mesmerized, her next words slipping past him. But it isn’t important, if it’s anything vital, three other people heard it. Then she’s leaning in, pulling him down, closer, and his mouth is dry. So dry. He should have taken the water offered earlier; he wants to clack his tongue, find a little moisture.

She’s kissing him before he has time to think about any of it, and Daisy is muttering in his ear again.

_"Aren’t you guys supposed to be some of Shield’s best?”_

_"You’re losing them.”_

She sounds exasperated as she huffs, and at any other moment he’d be worried for Hunter’s well-being, but… _“Can you just help instead of watching the show?”_

_"I’m just- You aren’t even out here.”_

_"I have eyes, and can see you through the vent.”_

But more than anything he’d like them to shut up, so he can enjoy the moment, they don’t come around often or ever really, but they keep mumbling in his ear. Bantering and bickering back and forth.

_"Come on, up the ante. No one wants to watch you make out-”_ There’s a peep over the line, another groan. And he’s sure he’s going to be down an agent by the end. _“Except Hunter apparently. He doesn’t count though cause he’s not a real person. He’s a troll.”_

He’sinclined to agree with the assessment most days. Today most definitely.

_"That is Mr. Troll to you.”_

_"The bigger, the better. Few more minutes and we should be good to go.”_

“I’m sorry.”

He almost misses her apology, head still stuck in what was happening, in what’s being said. He hadn’t even realized she’d pulled back.

“I shouldn’t have hit you, and I-I should have waited to have this conversation with you.”

He nods along, unable to form words yet much less string them together.

“I should have just asked you about Cameron, not jumped to conclusions.”

Her nose crinkles at the name, and if Cameron were real, he’d honestly be worried for her, but she isn’t, and this is adorable. 

She shakes her head, shrugging. “I’m just kind of a mess right now.”

He glances around the cabin, checking that their audience is still in attendance. Passengers meet his eyes, and quickly look away, and he knows without a doubt they’re still in business. When he turns back to her, there’s a strange grin on her face, and her hands tighten around his. The twist is coming, he’s afraid.

“I guess-”

_"Jesus Christ-”_

“I’ve been a little hormonal.”

_"It’s a kid.”_

There’s a stutter in his chest, he hadn’t expected that. Honestly, he’d expected something… less. Just less.

A monotone ringing fills his ears, dulling out the world because he understands what she isn’t saying. He wants to wipe his hands on his pants, they feel sweaty, but her hold is solid, and he thinks they would shake on their own. They shouldn’t, there’s no reason for it, but he thinks they would.

The collective breath of the plane is held in want of his reply. And he lied earlier, he does like this turn. Swift as it was.

For a moment he gets lost, caught in an undercurrent of ‘what if’s,’ but snaps back quickly, reminding himself it isn’t real. But he _almost_ wishes it was. There this persistent butterfly in his belly, and he kind of wants to squash it, feels a little nauseous. But, oh god, just the thought of it sets his mind whirling with possibilities. Of a dark haired, dark eyed child who loves Captain America and has a passion for pranks.

There’d been a time when that was something he’d wanted. Something he even imagined would happen with her when they were freshly released from the academy. When neither of them had attachments, and the job had been kinder. Before they’d drifted.

“What?” The question worms its way out his throat. That it manages to work for both of them is a blessing. He can imagine what he looks like with his mouth open, eyes wide. He doesn’t know how she hasn’t started laughing yet, but her eyes are soft as she watches him.

_"The 0-8-4. It’s a kid.”_

_"Time to ditch this party. Daisy, can you give us a shake? Need a reason to put her down.”_ Trip hums through the comm, and that is their cue to wrap it up, but they can’t just sit after that bombshell. Most of the passengers are still enraptured by their unfolding drama. 

“I-I…I’m-”

God, she seems so nervous, and he finds it endearing how her eyes meet his, and flick away. He tightens his grip when she tries to take her hands away. Taking pity, he ducks down to catch her eyes.

“Really?” He asks, smile spreading across his face, growing wide, unrestricted. He doesn’t even try to fight it.

His expression is reflected back to him. It’s gentler though, a tenderness he’s not sure he can produce. But this look, _this look_ he thoroughly loves on her. This is his favorite out of all of them.

Her eyes are teary once more, a burst of nervous laughter breaking through as she nods. And she’s kissing him again, short and sweet, and when she let’s loose he leans down resting his forehead against hers.

The plane vibrates under their feet, and her fingernails dig into his arms, fear replacing her tearful grin, and he can’t help but question again if she missed her calling. It’s feels so natural. All of this does, and he wonders what he’s missed in life by hesitating.

Grabbing her, she’s wrapped safely in his arms by the time the plane rocks violently. They fall with it, her hip catching the corner of the lavatory as they tumble in, a heap of limbs, and he knows she’d going to feel that in the morning. They don’t bounce back like they once did, as mush as she – they refuse to admit it. 

He pushes himself up off her, and onto his elbows, beaming. Still inexplicably happy over something that isn’t ever going to happen. 

“Really, Phil? We are in the middle of a mission.”

It’s rare she jokes, there hasn’t been much happiness to spread around lately, even with him, but today seems like the day for it. The only thing he can do is revel in it, and hope the kids are too preoccupied with whatever they’re doing to listen.

“Just celebrating our good news.” 

He can hear Trip over the PA system, over the terrified passengers. There’s the pop of the oxygen masks descending, and he’s nodding. That was all they needed.

_"Damn, Daisy.”_

The room is still rattling, but he manages to find his feet, and pull May to hers. There’s no worry from either of them about the current state of their transportation. Trip’s a competent pilot, and Coulson’s confident he knows what he’s doing.

_"Sorry, you said shake it.”_

The plane rocks the other way, and he’s a little less convinced as they fall back into the hallway, nearly smashing into Hunter, who is hollering at passengers to put their masks first on themselves then help others. He orders them to find their seats. And Coulson really wishes these people would stop screaming.

_"Yeah, shake, not knock us out of the sky.”_

Their hands are firmly bound as he uses the seat backs to hoist them to their row. Ushering her in, he follows behind, and buckles in, retaking her hand.

The landing is rough, they bump and bounce, and he wonders where Trip has put them, how close they are to their actually extraction point. They’ll need to be gone. When whoever, probably some faction of hydra knowing their luck, learns the plane is down, that their 'package’ is missing, they are going to rain down and Coulson does not want to see this turn into a combat op.

By the time they’ve finally made it off the plane, a handful of woman have crowded around Melinda, questioning how she is. He tries not to laugh as she unsuccessfully shoos them. Serves her right, slapping him with no warning.

Daisy is finally back in his ear. He wanders a ways off, leaving Melinda stuttering out answers with her gaggle.

“How’d it go?”

_"Two guys, no big deal. Anyone up front?”_

“Not that I saw. Any idea what the kid can do, if anything?”

_"Nope, she’s pretty quiet. We’re just in the treeline north of you.”_

“Met up in ten.” He says it for the benefit of those he can’t see, and sighs turning back around. Now, it’s not quite so funny that they’re clamoring around his… uh, agent. 

                                           -o0o-

The hike back takes a while. Longer than he thought it would at least. He stays toward the back, watching. Daisy’s taken the kid to the front, Trip and Hunter trail behind with May limping along in front of him.

“Let’s not commandeer a civilian plane next time. We have our own.”

“It was a necessary risk this time, and it worked out in the end,” Coulson says, taking off his jacket, and folding it over his arm. He should have checked the weather this morning.

“Necessary or not, it was a pain in the ass.”

“I’ve got to agree with him on this one.”

Daisy switches hands, and turns around to face the rest of them, with nothing less than a shit eating grin plastered on. Coulson moves in, taking a spot beside May, increasingly anxious as to what has put that look there.

“So, when is baby Coulson due?”

“Ah, yes. Suggestions on what Bob and I should bring to the shower?”

He should have expected this. Melinda’s eyes roll, and he worries as her lips thin, jaw set. He’s going to be an agent down by the time this is over.

“You wanted a bigger distraction,” he supplies easily, hopeful it will smooth out the little line of irritation between her brows.

“But a baby?”

He shrugs, not sure Daisy’s brows can physically get any higher. “It worked didn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah, but that was your plan the whole time?”

She’s fishing, and he’s about to end her expedition when May cuts in.

“No, but you said no one wanted to watch us make out, so…”

Her trainee’s eyes go wide, mouth hanging open as she struggles to keep the girl in hand. “Wait, what?! That was your plan? I was totally joking. Everybody wants to see that.”

Hunter frowns, nodding along. “That pot was gonna be mine.”

Trip shakes his head, distancing himself from the other two. “I have no part in this. I would never bet on my boss’ private life.”

Daisy’s face scrunches, eyes narrow as she raises her shoulders in disbelief at his betrayal. But Coulson’s more interested in May as she cocks her head like she’s considering replying to their bait, but quickens the pace instead.

\-----

When they reach the Quinjet, he thinks she’s going to take control of their flight home just to get away from Daisy’s staring, but she sits across from him, briefly meeting his gaze. His agents finally clamor down, and he watches in amusement as this nameless child quietly scoots closer to his equally quiet – uh, partner.

It doesn’t take long before his people are acting up though, all to entertain this mysterious youngster. Their antics grow more ridiculous as their little ward giggles. She’s saddled up next to Melinda. There’d been a minute he worried she’d move away, stiffened up as she was, but the concern seeped away as she relaxed, letting the girl lean into her.

That nagging feeling that he’d missed out reared up on the walk back after Daisy picked. And picked. And picked. This pecking emptiness that came and went with the years, when moments were quiet. But this pang felt different, stronger, harder to swallow down. It still nipped at him even now as he watches her claim Melinda’s hand. As he imagines all the things he missed.

It’s there then, this secret, this revelation he just keep glancing over, keeps hiding under his nose. Life hadn’t turned out exactly as he thought it would when he was twenty, but so what? It rarely did for anyone. At the end of the day though, he’d ended up having a family. Even one with her. Ended up where he wanted to be. With far more children than he’d ever expected to have. And depending on the status of their newest charge, they just might have another.


End file.
